I remember, May 1944: I was 15-and-a-half, and I was thrown into a haunted universe where the story of the human adventure seemed to swing irrevocably between horror and malediction.

One can do without solutions. Only the questions matter. We may share them or turn away from them.

Not to transmit an experience is to betray it.

I believe that all the survivors are mad. One time or another their madness will explode. You cannot absorb that much madness and not be influenced by it. That is why the children of survivors are so tragic. I see them in school. They don't know how

I believe a human being - if he or she wants to remain human, then he or she must do something with what we have seen, endured, witnessed.

For the dead and the living, we must bear witness.

Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.